


Catbread Toast

by der_tanzer



Series: Catbread [8]
Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-20
Updated: 2010-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 15:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murray nurses Quinlan after the murder attempt, only to lose him when he least expects it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catbread Toast

**Author's Note:**

> Relates Requiem for Icarus to the Catbread world.  
> With extra thanks to tinx_r, whose ideas kept this from being the end.

No one quite knew what to do for the first few seconds. Nick and Cody were shocked, but Murray felt a sinking that was nothing like surprise. As if his happiness couldn't have lasted anyway, and a harsh end was inevitable from the start. His only coherent thought was that it wasn't fair. Quinlan shouldn't have been the one to pay.

They carried him to the helicopter and laid him out on the deck. Murray knelt and lifted Quinlan's head into his lap while Cody covered him with a blanket. Nick was already in the cockpit preparing to lift off, and Cody barely made it up there before they were in the air. He would have stayed in the bay if Murray had asked, but he didn't. Murray felt like this might be the last time he spoke to his friend, the man he had come to love like no other, and he didn't want to share.

So he sat there alone, Quinlan's head cradled in his hands, and whispered below the sound of the rotors.

"Lieutenant, can you hear me? Don't die, please. God, don't die."

"I'll be okay, kid," he said without opening his eyes. Blood bubbled on his lips and trickled from his nose, giving the lie to his words. Murray wiped the blood away with his hand, feeling a rush of hope in spite of it all.

"Keep talking to me, Lieutenant. Say something. How do you feel?"

"Like I got hit by a car. I'm okay, kid. I'll be okay."

"Yes, of course you will. We'll be at the hospital in no time and they'll fix you right up. Just keeping talking, please. Call me names if you want, say anything."

"You're a good kid, Murray. I told you that before, but I never knew if you understood. You're a good kid and I'm one lucky bastard."

"I love you, too," Murray said softly, kissing him on the forehead. Quinlan smiled faintly, gruesome with blood, and closed his eyes. For a moment Murray thought that was it, and then the barrel chest rose with a ragged breath. His heart filled with hope and he shouted at Nick to hurry, not knowing if he heard or not. If they just had a little more time…

***

Nick flew into Los Angeles and radioed for directions to the nearest hospital. Air traffic control sent him to Keizer Permanente where he could set down on the roof, and a medical team came up to meet them. The chopper couldn't stay there, though, so Cody went with Murray while Nick took off in search of a nearby airport where he could leave Mimi.

Murray stayed with Quinlan and held his hand for as long as he could, but when they got down to the ER, he had to let go. He wasn't family and he wasn't allowed to watch. Cody took him to waiting room and made him sit, held his hands when he got too fidgety, and wished with all his heart that Nick was there.

"Cody, he's going to be all right now, isn't he? Isn't it true that if you get a person to the hospital, they usually live?"

"Yeah, usually. He'll be okay, Boz. He's strong."

Murray nodded and laid his head on Cody's shoulder, letting his friend hold him for a minute. Then he got up and started to pace. It was the only thing he wanted to do, and it would take more than one man to stop him.

Lieutenant Quinlan opened his eyes to a strange and frightening world. Bright lights shone in his face and he didn't see anyone he knew.

"Mr. Quinlan, are you with us?" someone asked. He flicked his eyes up and saw a nurse in white.

"Yeah. Jesus, I can't breathe. What are you doing?"

"We're going to have to put a tube down your throat to help you breathe. It won't hurt, you'll be sedated."

"Where's Bozinsky?"

"Who?"

"Bozinsky. Skinny kid…with glasses." He stopped, eyes wide with panic, gasping for air and finding none.

"He's in the waiting room. Mr. Quinlan, we need to contact your family. Is there someone who can give consent for your treatment while you're on the ventilator? A wife or siblings?"

"No," he groaned. He didn't want his son, and his worthless half-brother was dead. He struggled desperately for breath and found one more. "No family. Ask Bozinsky. He's a—a scientist. My best friend. He'll know what to do."

"Are you sure?" she pressed. It was so much more difficult when they had to deal with friends.

"Lady, I don't have any family that I forgot about. Ask Murray. And for fuck's sake, get me some air."

"As soon as the doctor finishes his exam. If you'd just sign here…" She put a pen in his hand and slid a clipboard under it. He didn't ask what it was, just scrawled his signature across the paper and closed his eyes again. He couldn't breathe, and Murray wasn't there, so he couldn't die, either. He had to see the kid again. There was so much he should have said when he had the chance, so much the kid deserved to hear, and he swore he'd do it if he got the chance. Then there was a sting in his arm and his vision began to blur. It felt like death, coming for him at last, and his only regret was that he would never get to say those things.

"Is there a Murray Bozinsky here?" The nurse was looking from one face to another, missing the pacing man entirely. He spun around and lunged for her so suddenly that she flinched away.

"Me. That's me. What's going on? How's Lieutenant Quinlan?"

"Mr. Quinlan's condition is very serious. He says he doesn't have any family and he'd like you to make his medical decisions for him while he's incapacitated."

"He—he what? Incapacitated? What's going on?" Murray was panicking and Cody got up, put an arm around his shoulders and held him still.

"We had to intubate him—you know what that means?"

"Yes, I know," he said, nodding anxiously.

"So you understand that he can't speak. And he's been heavily sedated, anyway. He'll need surgery, but we aren't certain the extent of his injuries yet. Just sign here and a doctor will be out to talk to you about any decisions that have to be made."

Murray took the clipboard, but hesitated another moment.

"All right, but why me?"

"He said he doesn't have any family, and you're his best friend."

"Really?" he whispered, his panic softening into incredible tenderness. "He said I was his best friend?"

"I'm sure you are," Cody gently. "Sign the form, Murray. It's what he wants."

Murray nodded vaguely and signed it, somewhere below the meandering scrawl that was probably Quinlan's signature.

"When can I see him?"

"Not for a while. He's going up to x-ray as soon as he's stable, and then to surgery. Someone will be out to talk to you as soon as there's any news."

Murray nodded again and then just stood there, leaning on his friend, and watched her walk away.

***

Nick came in a half hour later and joined Cody in leafing through old magazines while Murray paced. They'd managed to make him stop for a minute, but he'd fidgeted so badly it wasn't worth it. After a while they were taken to another waiting room upstairs, where there were fewer people, and he was more free to vent his feelings. He muttered to himself as he paced, words that his friends couldn't understand, that might have been curses or prayers.

Nick and Cody sat close together, holding hands and trying not to imagine how Murray was feeling. It could so easily have been one of them in there, and the other sitting out here alone, or pacing while Murray watched.

"He's gonna be okay, right?" Nick whispered. "They told you that, at least?"

"Not in so many words," Cody whispered back. "But you know Quinlan. He's too tough to kill with a sedan. It'd take a bus, at least."

Nick wanted to laugh, but Murray reached the wall and turned back toward them, so he stifled it, not wanting his friend to see him smiling.

They stayed there all day.

***

Things happened, Murray knew that. Doctors came and went, words were exchanged; it wasn't as if he spent the day in isolation. But he didn't remember anything for more than two minutes after it was said, and every time he saw Nick and Cody he was startled all over again that they were still there. His world had shrunk down to two people: himself, and the man they were keeping him away from. Surgery was a reasonable excuse, of course. He could understand that. There was nothing he could do in an operating room, and he didn't want to be in there, anyway. But he wanted information, and they weren't giving it. At least not the information he wanted. Not anything he could remember.

"Murray, it's getting late," someone said, and he spun around to find Nick standing too close.

"You're still here."

He'd said that every few minutes all afternoon but the words still hit them like a slap in the face.

"Yeah, Boz, we're here. But we think you ought to come with us and get something to eat. It's been a long day and none of us have eaten since breakfast."

"Oh. Yes, of course. You go ahead. I'm not hungry, and besides, they might need me."

"Probably not while he's in surgery. You gave consent to do whatever was needed; you can't do more than that."

"I know, but I can't leave. Not until I know."

"Know what?" Cody asked, coming to stand beside them.

"That he's all right. I can't…I can't do anything until I know."

"Please, Murray," Nick tried again. "Just for a few minutes. You'll be back before anything happens."

"No," he said, and the fire in his eyes made them pause. "I know what you think. This is a joke to you, isn't it? It's just not possible that I could love him, that he could mean as much to me as—as you do to each other. But you're wrong. It is the same. Neither of you would leave, and I wouldn't ask you to."

"But—" _we're stronger_, Cody started to say. Nick silenced him with a hand on his arm and nodded.

"You're wrong about that, Murray," he said quietly. "We don't think it's a joke. Believe me, we know what he means to you, and you can stay if that's what you need. But you can't help him if you're worn out and sick yourself."

"I know that," Murray sighed. "But what else can I do?"

"Sit down, for starters. And we'll bring you back some food, and you'll eat it, okay?"

"Sure. I mean—I'll try."

"Good. That's all we can ask."

Murray meant what he said, but he still intended to pace until they got back, and Cody saw it in the tense lines of his body.

"Hey, Nick, why don't I go and you can stay here? Keep Murray company."

Nick was startled, but he could read Cody's concern as easily as Cody read Murray's intentions, and knew he was right.

"Sure, let's do that. Come on, Boz, have a seat. Cody, don't go far."

"You got it." He wouldn't go to the cafeteria, Murray probably wouldn't eat that, but there had to be decent fast food nearby. There always was around hospitals.

Nick put his arm around Murray and led him back to the chairs.

"Let's just sit here and rest, okay?" he said, low and soothing.

Murray nodded, taking deep breaths and rubbing his fingertips over his eyes without taking off his glasses, like he always did when he was exhausted and scared and right on the edge.

"Nick, I don't know how to handle this," he whispered. "I've had friends, but I've never really been in love before. It's been so good up til now and—I never knew it could hurt this much. I'm so scared, Nick."

"I know, buddy. When love hurts, it hurts worse than anything." He kept his arm around his friend, holding him close, feeling him tremble. Then Murray was looking at him, his expression one of surprise.

"You _do_ understand, don't you? You're not laughing."

"Murray, I wouldn't laugh. I know we got off to a bad start with Quinlan, but he's been good to you. You've been so happy these last few months, anyone could see what he means to you. And anyone can see that he loves you, too. I was wrong before, about all of it, and I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize, Nick. I shouldn't have said those things. I was just—upset. I can't even imagine being without him. And it would be so unfair to him, after all the unhappiness he's had in his life—it can't end like this. It just _can't_."

"I know. I've never lost a lover like this, and—honestly I don't know what I'd do. But it's not over. It's a good hospital and they'll do everything they can. We already know they're smart; they put you in charge."

"Yeah, well, he told them to. What do you think that means, Nick?"

"What does what mean?"

"That he gave me power of attorney. It sounds like he didn't even tell them about his son."

"Well, you're a smart guy. He must know you'll weigh all the options and do the right thing. I put all that on Cody years ago, before you joined us, but I know if it was me, you'd help him and he'd listen to you. And you heard what the nurse said. He called you his best friend. From what I've seen, you might be his only close friend. I mean, Cody and I have tried, but we're not his type of people and that's all there is to it. We're friends, but not the kind you trust with a thing like this. He probably trusts you more than anyone else in the world. And you know what, Murray?"

"What?"

"He's right. You can do it, and it's gonna be fine."

Murray gave him a small, grateful smile and laid his head on Nick's shoulder. Maybe Nick was right. He often was.

***

No one would go home. Murray fell asleep eventually and they laid him out on the cracked vinyl sofa, then sat by and watched him. They watched each other too, making sure they were still together, still safe. But Murray's sleep wasn't peaceful, and his sobbing moans chilled Nick's heart. He moved to the sofa, pulled Murray's head into his lap, and rubbed the bony back in his most calming manner. After a while, Cody sat down on the floor at his feet, leaning against Nick's legs, his arms folded on the sofa, lightly touching Murray when he moaned. They were still there the next morning when the nurse came in.

"He's drifting in and out," she said as Murray followed her into the ICU ward. "We don't know how much he's aware of, and of course he still can't speak, but you can see him for a few minutes."

"Good. But what about his injuries? Is he going to be all right?"

"It's too early to say. The doctor will be in to talk to you as soon as he can." She pushed a door open and he followed, steeling himself for what he was about to see. But not enough. There was nothing in his life that could have prepared him for this. Not even the time Cody was in that car accident. He paused, thrown off his stride by the bandages, the respirator, the sheer bulk of machinery keeping the man he loved alive. Then he swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and went forth boldly. Quinlan was always telling him he was brave. Now was the time to prove it.

"Lieutenant," he said softly, picking up the hand with the fewest needles in it. There were soft restraints on his wrists, so Murray couldn't lift it much. "I'm here. I've been here all along and I won't leave. Even if they send me out of the room, I'll be close by. When you need me, I'll be here."

The nurse was moving around the bed, checking machines and taking his blood pressure, but when Quinlan opened his eyes, she didn't notice at first. Murray was watching, though, and smiled as if he weren't afraid.

"Hi, Lieutenant. It's all right, they're taking good care of you. Everything's all right."

The pained blue eyes flicked around the room, taking in the machines and the nurse, Murray still in his bloody clothes, the angle of the sun slanting through the windows. Then they locked on Murray's eyes, asking questions he couldn't read.

"I don't know what you need," he said. "Can you tell me? Is it important?"

A faint shake of the head, a squeeze of his hand, was the only answer.

"Are you in pain?" A small nod. "Is it very bad?" A shrug.

"The doctor will take care of that when he comes in," the nurse said. "Mr. Quinlan, I'm going to check your incision now." She flipped back the blankets and lifted his gown, exposing his battered body in a way that made Murray ache for him. He kept his eyes on Quinlan's, and saw him wince when the nurse pulled the bandage free.

"Can't you be more careful?" he asked, and received a grateful squeeze of the hand to balance her annoyed glance.

"He's heavily medicated, sir. I doubt it hurts."

"Oh. That's reassuring, isn't it, Lieutenant? It doesn't hurt."

Quinlan smiled, awkward and twisted around the vent tube, and closed his eyes. When the doctor came, he was asleep, but he never let go of Murray's hand.

***

That afternoon, Nick and Cody went home to shower and bring Murray fresh clothes. He wouldn't leave, even though he had to stay in the waiting room most of the time, and became quite upset when his friends tried to use reason. They flipped a coin and Nick stayed at the hospital with him while Cody went back to the boat for the night.

The next morning, the ventilator was turned off, and Murray held Quinlan's hand as he took his first breaths on his own. He sucked some ice from Murray's fingers, and his first words were of thanks. His next words were to ask when he could check out.

On the third day after the attempted murder, the feds came to talk to him about an immigrant smuggling ring in San Diego, and some men who wanted him dead. Murray wasn't allowed to stay for that, and when he came back into the room, Quinlan wasn't very talkative. Nor was he so eager to leave.

"I'm glad you're starting to see reason," Murray said, as if his own behavior had been nothing short of perfectly reasonable. "You need to get well before you get back to chasing criminals around King Harbor."

"Yeah, kid, I know." He gripped Murray's hand more tightly, eyes closed against the pain. "You—you really stood by me here, didn't you? I hear the nurses complaining when they think I'm asleep. You're always underfoot, asking questions, trying to be the doctor."

"I—I just want to help," he said uncertainly.

"I know. And you are. You're a bigger help than I probably deserve. I just want you to know—this isn't over. Doc says I'm not out of the woods yet and I won't be for a while. If this goes bad, if I don't make it—"

"Don't say that," Murray whispered. "Please. It's hard enough…"

"I know, kid, and I'm sorry. But I need you to know—I never told you—" He swallowed hard and opened his eyes, his face soft and vulnerable in a way Murray had only ever seen during sex, and even then, not often.

"If you're going to say you love me, I already know that."

"Do you? Do you know how much?"

"I think so."

"It's not new. I wanted your skinny ass the first time I saw you. Just kept telling myself that a smart kid like you wouldn't have anything to do with an ignorant old cop like me. But you surprised me on that, like you do everything else. I never met a guy so full of surprises."

"Most people don't like that," Murray said, laughing at himself so he wouldn't cry.

"Most people are stupid. I told you that before. Hell, _I'm_ probably stupid. But I was smart enough to love you when I had the chance. I just wish to Christ it'd been longer."

"Don't talk like that, Lieutenant. I'm still here, and you're going to get well. I promise. It's going to be okay."

Quinlan nodded, squeezed his hand, closed his eyes again. It hurt so much and he was so tired.

"Talk to me, kid. Tell me one of your Baltimore war stories." He liked Murray's war stories because no one ever died.

Murray cleared his throat and began to talk quietly, soothingly, tears in his eyes but not in his voice. After a while, Quinlan went to sleep.

***

For a week, Murray stayed at the hospital. He ate when someone made him, showered in the nurse's lounge, and wore whatever clothes the guys brought from home. When Quinlan was moved to a private room, he slept in a chair beside the bed. Even when the other man told him to leave, he didn't. He couldn't. Not so long as his friend was helpless in that bed.

Nick and Cody visited every day, spending a few minutes talking about cars or fishing or whatever was on TV. Quinlan always seemed happy to see them, but he wasn't disappointed when they left. Only once did he detain them, when Murray excused himself to use the restroom and they were alone for a moment.

"I need you two to do me a favor," he said without preamble.

"Sure, LT," Nick said with a grin. He called Quinlan that because it annoyed the older man just the right amount. Enough to be noticed, but not so much as to cause trouble. "What can we do for you?"

"Take care of the kid. If I'm not there to do it, keep an eye on him. Don't let him get killed in one of your loony schemes."

"Sure, Ted," Cody said, exchanging puzzled glances with Nick. "We always look out for Murray. But you're getting better, right? You'll be home in no time, taking care of him yourself."

"Maybe. Doc says I have some blood clot or something, though. He's a little worried about it. Says anything could happen, still."

"Well, I'm sure you're worrying over nothing," Nick said confidently. "But Murray'll be fine. At least as fine as we can make him. You better not die, though. Even if he had a thousand friends, it'd still break his heart."

"Kid's got a soft heart, that's for sure," he murmured. "All right, you two get out of here. I'm tired of looking at you."

"Always a pleasure," Cody said with a bow.

"Yeah. We'll see you tomorrow, LT."

Murray met them in the hall on his way back to the room and neither said anything about Quinlan's request. It would only upset him.

***

"We're taking Mr. Quinlan down to ultrasound," the nurse said. "The doctor wants a better look at that blood clot. It'll only be a few minutes. You can wait here if you like."

Murray wanted to say no. He wanted to go to ultrasound, too, but something in Quinlan's face kept him from arguing. It was hard for him to have Murray watch people manhandle him, to see him so helpless and pitiful, and Murray tried to respect that. For himself, he'd rather have his friends around when he was helpless, but he understood that not everyone was the same.

The hurt must have shown on his face, though, because Quinlan asked the nurse to give them a little more time alone. She agreed to wait outside for one minute only, and stepped into the hall.

"Come here, kid," he said quietly, squeezing Murray's hand, drawing him closer. "Don't worry so much. Everything's going to be okay."

"I know."

"No, you don't. But I do. It's really gonna be okay. Don't you ever forget that."

"All right." He reached with his free hand and touched the haggard face tenderly. There was so much pain in the icy blue eyes and nothing he could do to assuage it. He bent and kissed his lover softly, surprised when Quinlan caught the back of his head and held him for a moment. Then the hand fell away and Murray straightened up.

"I love you so much," he whispered.

"I know, kiddo. _Murray_. I love you, too." He closed his eyes, and when the nurse came for him, he didn't look back.

***

Murray took a cab back to the pier. He gave the driver the address and didn't speak again, just sat bolt upright, his eyes wide and bright and dry, staring straight ahead. When the car stopped, he gave the driver a handful of bills and got out, not realizing he'd just tipped thirty dollars. He didn't hear anyone who spoke to him on the pier, didn't stop to look around, just ran down to the boat as if all the hounds of hell were after him. But the boat was empty and there was no solace there.

"Murray, what are you doing here? How's Teddy?"

He turned around and saw Mama Jo at the rail. She took one look at his fever-bright eyes and her heart sank. Of all the rotten, evil luck…

"Where's Nick?" he asked, his voice steady. "Have you seen him? Or Cody?"

"They went down the beach with some friends a little while ago. Might find them down there."

"Thank you," he said, turning to go.

"Sure. And, Murray, I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked, challenging her to say it aloud. She looked into those feverish eyes again and declined. Murray stared at her until she dropped her gaze and then went to find his friends.

Later, he wouldn't remember talking to them on the beach. He didn't even remember the cab ride, or Mama Jo. They walked him back to the boat, holding his arms, surprised that he didn't cry. But both had seen men in shock before. They knew what it could do, and how it could look. So they took him into the salon and made him talk.

"I don't understand," Cody said, pouring him a cup of strong coffee. "He was getting better. What happened?"

"I don't know," Murray said vaguely. He took the coffee in shaking hands and spilled it down his chest. Nick was quick to grab the cup away and Cody unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it swiftly away from his skin, but Murray never noticed.

"Just tell us what happened," Nick said, holding the cup so he could drink a little. Murray swallowed automatically until the cup went away, and if was hot, he couldn't tell. Cody eased his jacket off and took away the wet shirt. There was a red spot on Murray's chest where the coffee had scalded him, but the rest of his body was cool with gooseflesh. Another sign of shock. He grabbed a blanket off the couch and wrapped it around Murray's shoulders while Nick went on encouraging him to speak.

"I wasn't there," he said at last. "They took him for an ultrasound while I waited in his room. Something about a blood clot at the IV site. Then the doctor came in and told me he'd had a—a pulmonary embolism during the exam. They wouldn't even let me see him." He paused, then went on, all in a rush, "They just—they told me he was dead and sent me home and here I am. That's not right, is it? I mean—that's not right. To not even let me see him?"

"It sounds like it wouldn't have done any good," Cody said softly. "But you're right. They could have let you say goodbye."

Suddenly Murray realized that they had. He laid his head down on the table and sobbed.

***

The next few days were hard on everyone. Murray found out that he wasn't going to be allowed to participate in planning the funeral, or even attend it, as Quinlan's son was having the body flown to New York for a private service. But the son didn't want to deal with his father's belongings, at least not once he discovered there was nothing of value, and Murray took the job of clearing out the apartment. He wouldn't let Nick or Cody help, nor would he explain why. The cat filled world was theirs alone, and he wouldn't expose his lieutenant to possible ridicule, even now. He simply packed up the cats and put them in storage. All except the calico police cat, and the cinnamon catbread box. Those would go home with him.

He noticed as he packed that the scientist cat was gone, but didn't know what to think about it. Maybe Quinlan had put it somewhere else when he wasn't paying attention. Maybe it was in his office. It made him very sad that the two were separated, and he promised himself that he would keep the police cat close so it wouldn't be lonely. He hoped someday he'd have a place for them all, because the storage unit seemed lonely, too.

Most of the rest of the things he sent to Goodwill. The clothes and appliances and furniture that he had no use for. He kept Quinlan's badge, his watch and rings, and the few photos that commemorated their relationship. The rest of the personal things, he packed to send to the son. There wasn't much.

Cody didn't comment on the breadbox when it appeared in his galley, and no one asked where the small calico with the badge came from. It sat next to Murray's computer, hissing protectively at no one, and sometimes one of them would surprise him petting it as he wept. But they never asked why and he never volunteered.

Very gradually, things got back to normal for the men aboard the _Riptide_. Winter turned to spring and Murray came out of his room a little more often, talked a little more freely, and ate a few more meals, when his friends reminded him to. Always on his mind were the last words the lieutenant had spoken to him. _It's really gonna be okay. Don't you ever forget that_. As if he'd known bad things were coming. As if he'd known that Murray would need that strength. At night, he would lie awake and wonder what he was supposed to do with those words. What it might mean to never forget.

Then, on a warm afternoon three months after Lieutenant Quinlan died, a young boy came up to the boat and asked if any of the men sitting on the fantail was Murray Bozinsky. Murray straightened up with a look of interest that was close to the one he used to wear, if not exactly the same, and said he was. The child handed him an envelope and ran away before he could ask any questions. Puzzled, Murray sat back and tore it open.

"What is it, Boz?"

"Yeah, who's it from?" Nick asked, praying it was good news. If it wasn't, he would run that boy down and shake him until some kind of information came out.

But Murray didn't answer. He was holding a sheet of paper in trembling fingers, studying it as if it were an ancient text in a dead language. When Cody reached for it, he pressed it to his chest, leapt up and ran inside. In his room, he sat at the desk and stared at the note, laughing and crying by turns. It was only two lines, signed with a doodle that no one but him would have understood, and that he wasn't about to share.

_Kid_, it said in a familiar scrawl, _Motel Six on Route 30. Ten pm._ And, below that, a slice of bread with pointy ears and kitty whiskers.


End file.
